


such a burden, this flame on my chest

by larrys27tattoos



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: M/M, Sexual Tension, even in white button downs, isak pines, somewhat hate to lovers, tensionnnn, vilde is vilde
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-06 19:14:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16838719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larrys27tattoos/pseuds/larrys27tattoos
Summary: Even takes Isak's dream job.Isak can't handle Even in white button down shirts.inspired by StMisery's 'a careful hypothesis of the heart': https://archiveofourown.org/works/12086643/chapters/27393873





	1. Chapter 1

Isak stood in the lobby and clenched his hand around the letter, crumpling the embossed seal at the top. Pretentious bastards, he thought.

Sending a freaking paper rejection letter, who even bothered doing that anymore? _Fucking_ NaesCorp.

“Isak!” He turned to see Vilde rushing toward him, her usual stack of books, papers, and carefully labeled folders clutched to her chest.

He sighed. “Hi, Vilde.”

She glanced down at the paper in his hand. “I’m sorry,” she said, biting her lip. “It was- a close call. You made it to the last round, I can tell you that.”

Vilde was assistant director of HR- and Isak’s prime source for intel. Isak looked over at her, strands of blonde hair falling from her careful bun, eyes wide as always.

“Vilde… can you tell me who?”

She looked apologetic. “Isak, you know I can’t-”

“Come on, Vilde. Please. For my sanity. And you owe me for last year’s Christmas party, anyway.”

Vilde glanced around quickly, hands tightening around her manila folders. “Fine,” she hissed. “But you didn’t hear it from me.”

Isak nodded solemnly.

“It’s the boss’s son.”

Isak froze, something hot burning down his throat. “What.”

Vilde nodded and leaned closer. “I overheard one of my managers saying it as they left the meeting, something about doing it under a f-”

Isak’s ears were burning. “Thanks, Vilde,” he said, interrupting her, and brushed by quickly.

Fucking fuck. This job, this job that he had spent hours upon hours preparing for, hours poring over consumer data and campaign statistics, all his efforts in cultivating a relationship with his bosses and media specialists, and he’s ousted by nepotism, by the good ol’ boys club of corporate marketing.

He thought back to his days in university, of watching the groups of students from good families with every connection in the world leave the library early, the lamp on his desk burning daggers into his temples as he sent email after email, begging for an interview, for a chance to get in the door.

He turned sharply left. His notes were in his cubicle on the 30th floor, and he felt like lighting something on fire. His papers. His closet of an office. Maybe the building.

His phone rang from his pocket. “Hello?” he said dully.

“‘Sup, Isak?”

Isak ran a hand through his hair, trudging up the steps towards the elevators. “ _Hei_ , Jonas.”

Jonas paused a second, sucking in a breath. “Sorry, bro- you didn’t get it?”

The elevator opened with a ding and Isak stepped inside, glancing at the tall blond guy in a dark suit leaning against the rail in the corner.

“No. But you’ll never guess who they did give it to,” Isak heard the bitterness in his own voice, tasted it at the back of his throat as he jabbed the ‘30’ button.

“Who?”

“The boss’s fucking son.”

“What? You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was.” Isak slumped against the railing in the opposite corner from the other guy, who was staring at the control panel with an odd look on his face.

“That’s nepotism for you, I guess," he continued. "Daddy’s boy gets exactly what he wants, screw everybody else who actually works for shit.” He ran a hand over his face. “Look, can I call you back? I’m going to grab my stuff from the office and then probably head home. May or may not burn it all.”

Jonas laughed. “Don’t burn it, dude. You’ve shed way too many tears for those breakthroughs.”

Isak smiled tightly. “No promises. I’ll see you later.”

“See ya.”

“Hard day?”

Isak looked over, surprised, at the tall guy, still leaning with his hands on the rail.

“Uh- you could say that.”

“Well, whatever you’re planning on burning, I suggest using a bottle of Grand Marnier. It smells nice while it burns.”

Isak stared, nonplussed. “Um. Okay. Sure.”

“What’s your name?”

“Isak. Valtersen."

The guy smiled slowly, eyes crinkling as he slid his hands into the pockets of his suit. “Nice to meet you, Isak.”

The elevator shuddered to a stop, the doors opening as a red ‘30’ flashed over their heads.

Isak stepped out, then paused, half-turning back to the elevator. “Um- I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name…?”

The blond boy raised his head to meet Isak’s eyes, a tiny smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “Even Bech Naesheim,” he said. “ The boss’s fucking son.”

Isak’s mouth dropped as the elevator doors whooshed shut with a resounding ding.

He was so fucked.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Isak commuted like a dead man walking. He kept running what had happened in the elevator through his head- the guy’s odd look when Isak had been talking, his smirk as he dropped his name. 

Even. Even Bech Naesheim, elusive heir to the empire of Kristian Holm Naesheim, one of the most successful businessmen in Norway. 

He’d seen photos of Even on gossip columns before, alongside stories discussing the mysterious young heir who stood to inherit millions upon millions once his father stepped down. He was notoriously private, the paparazzi only catching occasional photos of Even in dark sunglasses walking on the streets of Oslo or on vacation in Ibiza with his arm around various tall, tanned girls.He remembered their big story on him from the previous year- “Where in the world is Even Bech Naesheim?” after Even had supposedly disappeared for five months- only to reappear in Rome with his arm around an American model that summer. 

Isak shook his head. Stupid. Stupid not to have recognized Even, stupid to have opened his mouth anywhere in the NaesCorp building in the first place. And now Even was going to be running the entire marketing division, and Isak was going to be seeing him  _ every day.  _ Reporting to him. 

Christ on  _ crutches.  _

He looked at the tram tracks in front of him, cold with drifts of snow still piled on the sides, and briefly considered jumping as the screech of the tram sounded in the distance. 

His phone vibrated. 

_ Goooood luck  _ from Jonas in the groupchat. 

Two seconds later a GIF from Magnus came in of a headstone with a bat flapping overhead. 

Isak closed his eyes and dropped his phone back into his pocket. 

He walked into the office quickly, keeping his head down as he pushed into his tiny office, ignoring Eva as she came down the corridor with her huge mug of coffee. 

Unsurprisingly, that didn’t do him much good. 

“Isak!”

He raised his head to see Eva smiling predatorily in the doorway, then promptly dropped it back down onto his charts. 

“ _ Faen.” _

“Jonas told me,” Eva gloated. “You’re in so much  _ shit _ , Isak.”

“Don’t remind me.” 

“I just- how did you not  _ recognize  _ him? He’s on the gossip blogs every week.” 

Isak rolled his eyes as he unwound his scarf. “Because I spend so much time on those, Eva.”

Eva shot him a look over the rim of her mug. “Yes, yes, we know, Isak, the broest of the gays, snapbacks over mascara, whatever. The point remains that you’re in for it, and I’m going to thoroughly enjoy every second of it.”

Isak very pointedly turned on his computer. 

“Okay, okay,” Eva said, turning on her heel. “Just let me know when you need a smoothie break to discuss your _doom._ ” She waggled her fingers at him. 

Isak shot her a look as she left his office, then stared numbly at his computer screen. What if he lost his job? What if Even Bech Naesheim yelled at him in front of the whole office? What would happen to him if he got fired from what was arguably the biggest opportunity of his career? 

A jolt of bitterness shot through his anxiety. It should be  _ him  _ in that office, should be  _ him _ running his division, should be  _ him _ making people worry-

“Uh, Isak?” 

Isak jumped and spun around to see Emma, the executive assistant, leaning hesitantly in his doorway. 

“Hei, Emma?”

“Um, the new- uh, Mr. Bech Naesheim wants to see you. In his office.” 

“Now?”

“Now.” 

Isak followed Emma through the maze of cubicles, watching her earrings sway above her shoulders. Maybe this was it. This was the end of his time at NaesCorp, of enjoying the title of youngest assistant director of marketing in company history. The end of everything he’d killed himself working for all these years, downed by a wealthy heir with devastating blue eyes. 

Emma knocked on the dark wood door, a short, “ _ Jo!”  _ coming from the inside. She nodded at Isak, then retreated to her glass desk to the side. 

Isak took a deep breath, then opened the door, the hinges creaking loudly. The office was different, he noticed, Even already having made his mark on the space. The heavy curtains were gone, leaving the entire back wall open glass that looked out over the skyscrapers of downtown Oslo. Even had also switched out the stiff leather chairs in front of the desk in favor of Ikea-esque white metal, a vase of yellow daisies on the coffee table. Subtle, but effective- the whole tone of the office felt different. Fresher. 

Even glanced up from the files he was reading as Isak walked in.  _ “God morn,  _ Isak,” he said, face inscrutable. 

Isak nodded. “ _ God morn.” _

“Will you sit?” Even motioned to the Ikea chairs. 

Isak sat, looking around. There was new art on the walls he hadn’t noticed before, abstract prints in blue and grey mixed with what looked like album covers, filtered into black and white. Isak raised his eyebrows at one. “Is that- is that N.W.A?”

Even smiled, his face shining and open, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yes! Straight Outta Compton. You listen to them?”

“Uh- I- I did a lot in high school?” Isak said, nonplussed. 

Even nodded. “Did you go here in Oslo?”

“Nissen.”

“Bakka. Mostly.”

Isak raised his eyebrows, but Even didn’t elaborate, sitting silently and watching Isak. 

Isak shifted, unsure of where Even meant to go with this conversation. He seemed at ease, leaning back in his chair with his suit jacket unbuttoned, tie still draped over the coat rack. 

“Look, I-”

“You don’t have to worry about the elevator,” Even interrupted. 

Isak stopped, his mouth dropping. “What?”

Even smirked a little. “What you said in the elevator. I won’t hold it against you.”

Isak’s eyes narrowed, a tiny spark of anger fluttering in his chest. Won’t hold it against him? Kind. 

“That’s very big of you,” he said coolly, and Even blinked. 

“I-”

Isak stood abruptly, suddenly unable to take anymore of Even sitting at that desk. 

“I have work to do.  _ God morn, _ Mr. Bech Naesheim.”

He shut the door, leaving Even’s bewildered face behind him. 

Over the next two weeks, Isak avoided Even as much as possible, shutting the door to his office every time he heard the hinges of Even’s door creak. He delivered as much as possible to Emma, and ducked into Eva or Noora’s cubicles whenever he saw Even walking towards him. 

“This is ridiculous,” Eva had told him. “You’re acting like a child.”

But Isak couldn’t help it- the sight of Even sent his heart rate up so much his Apple Watch kept sending him concerned alerts. 

And the thing was- Isak knew he was being ridiculous, but he just couldn’t help the frenzied, burning feeling he got whenever he saw Even- a mix of desire, resentment, and jealousy that he didn’t know how to handle. He was afraid- afraid of what he might say if he tried to talk to Even, and unsure if it would be “please let me suck your dick” or “i hate your arrogant privileged ass”. 

As far as he could tell, Even wandered the office a lot, stopping to talk to everyone from Sara the intern to Lars the mail coordinator. He always seemed to be rolling up his sleeves, or tossing his hair back, or tilting his head back to laugh, and Isak could Not Handle It. 

So he hid in cubicles and listened for hinge squeaks, purely for self-preservation, and hid in the back during meetings, except meetings like this one, when he showed up late and the only seat available was third from the front of the table. 

“...so if we look at what Radisson has done with their targeted demographics, we can see that-” 

Isak dropped his pen onto his notebook and sighed, leaning back in his chair. Even was at the front of the conference room, projector light shining on his face, reciting industry updates like he’d printed them off Google marketing news that morning. 

He was wearing navy blue, something that made his eyes look darker, and was actually wearing a tie, which brought images of headboards and knots to the back of Isak’s mind. 

He bit his lip hard.  _ Nei,  _ he told himself.  _ No sexual thoughts about your interloper boss.  _

“And I was thinking that if we could make a push in a more abstract direction, move away from...tradition, be more free-thinking, that it could entice the consumer by sparking intrigue, rather than telling them what they want.”

Isak tuned in as Even turned away from the projector. 

_ What, _ he thought, and put up his hand. 

Even nodded at him. 

“What,” he said, and Even raised his eyebrows. 

“I don’t-” Isak shook his head. “The entire point of our industry, our whole jobs- are to tell and show people what they want. They don’t want to look at an advertisement and have to think about it. They want to look and know that it’s something they need. If you want creative thought and expression...well, there are museums for that.”

There were snorts, quickly stifled, from around the table, and Even’s mouth tightened at the corners. 

“So you’re saying we can’t trust our consumers to know what they need without us telling them? That they’re too dumb not to know if it’s not staring them in the face? You would rather,” Even spoke louder, coming around the side of the table. “You would rather plod along and do everything by the book and by metrics? Aren’t we supposed to be innovating?”

Isak felt a familiar prickle in his chest. Fuck this pretentious ass, fuck this guy who thought he knew everything about everything, fuck him when Isak knew what was best for the division.

“Those metrics are there for a reason,” he said, setting his hands on the table and standing up. “They tell us everything we need to know, were put in place so we  _ don’t  _ have to guess and wonder if we can trust our consumer-”

“But isn’t it time to shake it up?” Even was moving closer, standing almost directly in front of Isak. “Haven’t we exhausted everything the metrics can tell us? We can change the industry if we just are open to something new-”

“The industry doesn't need to be changed! It’s fine! It’s flourishing, if anything, and we don’t need you and your-your- frivolity- coming in and running us into the ground because you want to try an art project!” Isak’s heart was pounding, and he could almost feel the heat of Even’s skin, he was standing so close. He forced himself to meet Even’s eyes, even though it made him tilt his head back slightly. He could feel the flush in his cheeks, was aware of the entire room’s eyes on the two of them. 

Something in Even’s jaw set, and he finally backed away. “Thank you for your viewpoint, Mr. Valtersen,” he said coolly. “I will take your thoughts into consideration.” He looked around the room. “You all are dismissed.”


	3. Chapter 3

A few days later, Isak was typing dully on his computer when he heard his email ping. 

He clicked in to find the Helly Hansen work declaration- the one he’d been waiting on for months, since well before Koenig had retired. He skimmed it absently, then swore. He and Koenig had sat in meetings for weeks with Helly Hansen’s VP of Marketing to determine what exactly NaesCorp was going to be responsible for- and it seemed that Helly Hansen had ignored everything Koenig had said anyway. 

“ _ Faeeeen,” _ he said, dropping his head onto his desk. 

“Everything alright?” said a voice, and he looked up to see Even leaning in his doorway, a neutral expression on his face.

They hadn’t really spoken since the incident in the conference room- if they’d crossed paths in the hall or the breakroom it had been swiftly broken eye contact and distant “excuse me”s. 

Isak knew he had crossed a line, hell, he’d yelled at his boss, derided him in front of half the company- and part of him was still amazed he hadn’t at least been written up, let alone fired. 

Even seemed like he was fine to let the whole thing go, but Isak still felt an uncomfortable pressure every time he thought about it. It wasn’t guilt, per se, more of regret about the way he’d said what he’d said. 

That little tightening of Even’s jaw when he’d said the thing about art projects kept replaying in his mind. 

And sure, maybe it was because Even had a beautiful jaw, but it also spoke to something a little deeper, something that told Isak that he’d crossed a line. 

And yet, here Even was, good-natured and willing to chat. 

“Fine,” he said automatically. “Well-actually, no. I need to talk to you, it’s about the Helly Hansen project.”

Even nodded, dropping into the single chair opposite Isak’s desk. “What’s up?”

“Koenig and I sat with them for weeks explaining what we have the resources to do here,” he explained. “And they’ve just sent over the work declaration and have basically ignored everything we said, so I think we’re going to have to call another meeting.”

Even ran his hand over his jaw. “Didn’t they just appoint Erik Burbank as their new head of Marketing?” he said. 

Isak nodded. 

“I know him pretty well,” Even said. “I’ll have Emma set up a meeting with both of us and him at Maaemo, it’s his favorite place. Should get him in a decent mood,” he smiled at Isak, his tongue tapping one of his incisors in a sort of nervous tic. 

Isak stared, mouth slightly open, before he recovered himself, nodding too quickly and stumbling over his words.

“Yeah, sure, good,” he said. 

Even smiled again and nodded at him. “ _ Takk,  _ Isak,” and left his office. 

Isak sat there a moment, his heart beating erratically, then let out one long breath.

_ No thinking about your boss’s tongue. No thinking about your boss’s tongue. No thinking about your boss’s tongue... _

  
  


The meeting was set for 12:15 on a Tuesday. Emma had gotten them a quiet table towards the back, and Isak was a full ten minutes early- he’d been nervously pacing his office all morning, and eventually Eva had walked by for the third time and forced him into his coat and out the door.

He’d just put in an order for an iced tea when he spotted Even’s blond head at the door and had a sudden wish for whiskey. 

“ _ Halla,”  _ Even said brightly when he sat down. 

“ _ Halla,” _ Isak responded faintly. 

“I’m not usually early,” Even said as he pulled out his tablet, “Usually I’m  _ never _ on time. But the tram here is always late so I allowed extra time but of course it wasn’t late, so here I am.”

Isak nodded, unable to find something to say. 

Even looked at him for a moment, his demeanor quieting. “I know- we’ve sort of gotten off on the wrong foot,” he said slowly. “I know you don’t like me, and I can understand why. But I know you’re brilliant at what you do and I’d really like if we could work together.”

Isak opened his mouth- to say what, he didn’t know- but at that moment someone said, “Even!” in a booming voice, and Even jumped up to hug a tall man with a scraggly beard. 

“Erik, this is Isak Valtersen, my VP,” he said in English. Isak stood and shook Erik’s hand, still reeling slightly from what Even had said. “How are you,” he mumbled. 

“So, Erik, we need to discuss this work declaration, but let’s get some Tuborg in us first-”

An hour and three Tuborgs later, Isak had an amended and signed declaration of work in his hand and a promise to meet Erik for racquetball in his sports club. 

“Say hello to Olivia for me!” Even called as Erik walked down the street, waving. 

Isak stood next to him, carefully sliding the declaration into his bag, the cold biting at his fingers. 

“Well, that went well,” Even said, turning around to face him. 

Isak allowed him a small smile, the beers sending a pleasant buzz into his head. “Yeah, it did.”

They set off down the street together as it started to snow, flakes settling onto the dark wool of Even’s coat. 

“What was going to be the first thing you did?” Even asked suddenly. “If you got the job?”

Isak was quiet for a moment, ignoring the familiar little flare Even’s words ignited in his chest. “I would have redone our contracts,” he said. “It sounds mundane, but we’re taken advantage of in a lot of ways that most people don’t realize. It’s not an efficient use of our time or our resources, and I think we’d perform a lot better if we re-analyzed and started using our people more effectively.”

Even stared at him, then nodded, slowly, the expression in his eyes shifting into something Isak couldn’t read. 

They said nothing the rest of the walk, Even politely holding the door of their offices open for Isak and saying a brief ‘bye’ as he retreated into his office. 

  
  
  


A week later Emma stopped by his office with a thick stack of folders in her hands. 

“Hey, Isak,” she said, blushing at him, which he steadfastly ignored. 

“ _ Hei, _ Emma.”

“Um, Eve- Mr. Bech Naesheim- wanted me to, um, wanted you to look these over,” she said, blushing harder. 

“What are they?” Isak asked, taking the stack from her. 

“All our current contracts. Mr. Bech Naesheim has been going over them. He said someone mentioned to him that they weren’t very, um, efficient, and he wanted you to approve them. And if you had any suggestions.”

Isak opened the top folder. Inside was a sticky note that said, in loopy handwriting, 

_ I haven’t changed anything. I want you to change them as you see fit, do what you think is best. When you’re done you can present them to the board with my full support.  _

_ -Even _

He waved Emma off and stared out the window, a tiny smile playing at the corners of his mouth. 

_ And a point for Even Bech Naesheim.  _

  
  
  
  


Isak came in two mornings later to find his floor in abject chaos. Phones were ringing, people were running from cube to cube, voices yelling over the ringing. 

He stopped one of the junior coordinators. “What the hell is going on?” he demanded. 

The kid froze. “Um- We’re- we- we were ten thousand units short,” he finally stuttered. 

Isak’s eyes widened as he took in the news. “Ten...thousand...for the Pfizer samples?” he said, a headache already beginning to pound behind his temples. “10,000 fucking-” he stopped himself and took a deep breath. “Thank you, Pieter.” The junior coordinator ran off. 

Isak speedwalked to his office, heart pounding erratically. The Pfizer samples had been a huge project- started a full year ago under Koenig, with the potential for Pfizer to sign a 400 million kroner deal with NaesCorp if they liked their work. 

Isak pulled up the file he was looking for on the marketing server- the final contracts, the statements of work completed. 

And there. 

There it was- Even Bech Naesheim’s signature, signing off that all was correct. 

Isak stormed past Emma at her glass desk, slamming Even’s door open so quickly the hinges didn’t have time to squeak. 

Even’s head whipped up. “Hal-” he started, but stopped when he saw Isak’s face. “What-”

Isak slammed the papers down on the desk. “Is that your signature?” he demanded, jabbing his finger on the line. “Your signature confirming the shipment of  _ 30,000 units to Pfizer?” _

Even swallowed. “Yes?”

Isak clenched his jaw. “Do you realize,” he began, then stopped. “Are you aware that shipment was meant to be 40,000 units?”

Even’s eyes widened. “What?” he said, “ _ Nei, _ it was 30-” he stopped, picking up the agreement of services Koenig and Isak had signed last year. His eyes flew over the page, and Isak saw when Even realized his mistake- saw as his face fell and a crease appeared between his eyebrows. 

“I-”

“You just cost the company a 400 million kroner deal,” Isak snarled. “Because you couldn’t be bothered to read a  _ shipping statement  _ closely enough. And people wonder why I-” he stopped himself just in time. “You’d better get your act together quick,  _ Naesheim _ ,” he said, the name burning in his mouth. “Before Daddy comes and takes the job away.”

He caught a brief look at Even’s face, slack with shock and a bit of hurt in his eyes before he strode out of the office, a sick feeling of satisfaction twisting in his gut. 

Even wasn’t in his office all the next day- Isak caught Vilde on a mid-afternoon coffee run to the stand in the lobby and she told him that Even had been in meetings with the board all morning. 

“Is it bad?” Isak asked, despite himself. 

Vilde nodded, eyes wide. “Very,” she said. “Anneke’s been yelling at him for most of the morning.”

Isak winced. Anneke was their CFO- nice enough, but merciless when she was angry. 

“Magnus told me he heard someone crying in the top floor toilets last night,” she whispered conspiratorially. “He thinks it might have been Even.” 

Isak’s stomach rolled uncomfortably. Vilde- ever perceptive- caught his look. “What is it?” she asked. 

He shifted. “I, uh. I might have yelled at him. A bit. Yesterday. After I found out.”

Vilde sighed. “Oh, Isak.”

“What?”

Someone called Vilde’s name and she turned, waving at the person near the elevators. “ _ Jeg kommer!”  _ she called. “Listen, Isak, I have to go, but- just try to be nicer, okay?”

Isak opened his mouth to protest, but she was already scurrying away. 

He stood there, something uncomfortable sitting in his chest. 

Even Bech Naesheim was sitting in a position he didn’t deserve, hadn’t worked for, wasn’t qualified for, and had fucked up. Royally fucked up, and Isak had let him know just how royally. There wasn’t anything wrong with what he’d done- but the image of Even’s crestfallen face as Isak left his office refused to leave his mind. 

Later that night, Isak stretched out on his couch, fat snowflakes drifting by his window. He had a half-finished carton of lo mein in his lap and Linnaeus the cat curled up on the backrest. He’d been unable to shake the unsettled feeling all day, despite watching three episodes of  _ Narcos  _ and listening to Jonas tell him about his latest fling. 

Sighing, he slid open his phone and opened his conversation with Sana. 

She was an old friend from high school, studying to be a doctor now in Sweden. She understood his bitchy side more than most, and would be the least likely to condemn him. At the very least he knew she’d be honest with him as to whether or not he was being awful-or crazy. He pressed  _ ringe.  _

He held the phone to his ear until Sana’s voicemail kicked in, then dropped the phone, staring out at the snow. 

_ Why  _ was he so unsettled by Even? He’d had crushes like this before, a purely physical appreciation, but none that...prickled quite so much. He hated Even. He resented that Even had something he wanted without working for it. But he just couldn’t shake that...vulnerability Even had, that openness in his face when he’d asked if Isak liked N.W.A. 

And. 

And the way Even walked around the office in white dress shirts with no tie, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, hair falling onto his forehead. 

And the way his voice went low when he was talking about something serious, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. The way his shoulders moved under his suit jackets. The way his eyes sparked bluer when he wore navy. The way his ass looked when he wore his slim-cut trousers and bent over Ole’s desk across from Isak’s office…

Without thinking, Isak’s hand drifted below the waistband of his joggers, tracing lightly down his cock. He was already more than half hard, christ. 

He bit his lip as he touched himself, images of Even rushing in quicker than he could stop them. 

Even tracing his mouth with his tongue, doing that thing where he tapped the bottom of his incisor with the tip. 

Even bending him over his fancy desk, Oslo spread behind him. 

Even on his knees, his plush lips parting under Isak’s cock.

Even pushing Isak to his knees, tangling his fingers in his hair and pulling...

Isak groaned, wrapping his hand fully around himself and sliding up, collecting the precome already leaking from the tip, sliding back down and squeezing at the base. 

Even’s fingers on his neck. In his hair. Inside him, stretching him open, his cock leaking over NaesCorp papers on the desk...fuck,  _ fuck.  _ Isak came with a low groan, shooting hard and fast into his sweatpants. 

He pulled his hand out and twisted for the stack of napkins on the floor, wiping off the come as Linnaeus stared at him balefully. 

“Leave me alone, you dumb cat,” Isak muttered, and Linnaeus daintily raised a paw and licked it. 

Isak let his head drop back onto the couch. 

He was so fucked. 


End file.
